Maybe it’s that I’m reminded of Little Orphan Annie the Sequel, the one where all the kids starve to death because Mrs. Hannigan drank up all the money. It’s a Hard Knock Life. At least it must be if these are worth 40 bucks.
My 4 year old has been having a lot of nightmares lately. I know it comes at this age group, but it’s difficult to go back to several night wakings. I can’t imagine what kind of nightmares the tiny owner of this bed would have:
I kind of love that the parents thought to make the bedding pink and that the bottom jaw opens to toy storage. The more I think about it, the more I think this is what dreams are made of. At least for an OCD parent like me who likes toys put away.
My mother-in-law HATES squirrels. She’s the type who likes every leaf and branch picked up in the yard and the squirrels – I swear on mah life y’all – THROW tree nuts at her while she’s out there. It’s like they know how upset she gets. Their little beady eyes light up when they see her.
Which is why I totally wanna get her one of these for her next birthday:
Oh not to be cruel, not in the least. I wouldn’t dream of upsetting my mother-in-law. But here’s the thing: since I quit smoking 3 years ago, she has to go outside alone to smoke. There’s no more gossiping about family members on the back deck for us. Now she’d have Charlie the Smoking Squirrel here to smoke with. As a bonus, he and his giant uzi* would scare off all the other squirrels that have tormented her for years!
Think she’d go for it?
Pah. Me neither. She’d probably never speak to me again. Maybe I should stick with the squirrel earrings. Nothing says I love you like Dead Tree Rat.
Clearly I am missing something here. Us? A guilty pleasure? I think it’s more like that trainwreck you can’t tear yourself from no matter how hard you try. Craftastrophe is the equivalent of toilet paper stuck to your shoe while you walk around the hottest most trendiest bar in the city. It’s the spinach stuck between your teeth when you smile at The Guy you’ve been crushing on For-Evah!
We’ve been a little slow around here (As if you haven’t noticed. Seriously? The emails begging for posts? So awesome!), we’ve broken our feed (Can’t seem to get that bitch back online. Feedburner is a red-headed step child. I’d so like to give it a beat down.), and yet you’re still here.
No I am not crying. I have something stuck in my eye. And I’m still sick, leemeealone.
So really, it’s not like I should even bother asking since you’ve done so much already just by hanging around while we get our poop together; but I’m going to. I’m going to ask you for one more teenie tiny little thing.
A vote.
Since we got our butts beaten so badly in the other award thingie. No matter. It’s not like we didn’t have some stiff competition – like um, ETSY! Seriously. No one has a chance against a gem like that.
That how you Craftastrophe lovers make my boogers feel. Like dancing.
Git down wit yer bad self.
So, if you have a moment, please stop by and vote DAILY for Craftastrophe at the Social Luxe Lounge.
Click the image at the top of the post (OR THIS LINK), or the one in the sidebar (OR THIS LINK) and help us beat the pants off those other wannabe Guilty Pleasures.
I know posts have been behind lately and I’m so very sorry or that. See, I’ve recently returned to work after a year long maternity leave and things are little hairy at the moment with new routine and illness abound. We’ve been sick, sick, sick. The kinda sick where you could shove a tampon up each nostril and just leave them there to sop up the running snot.
Nice visual, right? You’re welcome.
And! What a great segue because look at this beauty I came across!